


call me back (it's murphy we lack)

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Radio Convos, Some Fluff, Some Humor, too much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke spends a little quality time with an old friend. Well, the quality is questionable but that's the curly-haired one's fault.</p><p>But, dear Clarke, never fear, your Lizard Boy is here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call me back (it's murphy we lack)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, new and old! Welcome all! If you've just come across this series, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to start from the beginning! It's much better that way.  
> ~  
> First of all, these titles just get more and more embarrassing. I apologize, that's never been my strong suit.
> 
> To all of you equally lovely humans who are caught up, I sincerely hope you enjoy this rollercoaster of emotions. Trust me, this one should break your heart but at least it'll get taped back together this time. Light fluff sprinkled throughout moderate angst and an overload of dialogue.
> 
> Yeah, seriously, so much dialogue it'll make you sick. In the good way, of course.
> 
> Enjoy! Or don't, I can't tell you what to do.

Clarke slid to the ground, back against the bar, cradling her head in her hands. She eyed the dried blood staining the bandages on her knuckles, giving an apologetic look to the remains of a pretty vase that had been sweeped into the corner after her outburst. “Clarke, honey. Please come back. He’ll be fine.”

“Put Bellamy back on.”

“Clarke-“

“Mom, please.”

The sounds from the long-distance walkie died out as the button was presumably released on the other side.

Clarke had gotten an earful from nearly everyone in camp at this point. Even Jackson had tried to coax her into returning “home”. They were most definitely not dead.

She tugged with frustration at the ends of her hair, willing herself not to cry. She had no right to be upset, of course.

 _She_ found the radio in the emergency tech storage tub and _she_ talked into every available channel night after night and _she_ told Bellamy she’d consider coming back as the single necessity for repairing the alliance upon request of Lexa and _she_ lied to Murphy and _she_ was careless about hiding the radio from him and _she_ was to blame for all of this.

 _She_ was the reason Murphy had been missing for two days.

Clarke shouldn’t be upset. Her _real_ friends and family are alive. She had a few months to recover, it was time to go home. To be with her mother. To have that drink with Bellamy. To thank Lincoln and Monty for all that they did. To apologize to Octavia. To comfort Jasper. To spend time with Raven. It was time to _do._

Everyone was hurting, but she ran straight into the arms of the undoubtedly most useless member of the Sky People in a cozy bunker and drowned all of her sins in whiskey.  She was weak.

That’s not who the real Clarke was. Clarke is not weak. Clarke is strong, smart, a leader, a healer. Clarke is brave and daring and makes the tough choices.

Clarke saves her people.

All of her people. Not just herself. Not just one boy.

And if she didn’t dare to go back and save her people again, was she really Clarke?

Did she want to be Clarke?

“I want you to be Clarke.”

She looked down at her hand and realized she had been holding the ‘TALK’ button down in her death grip on the radio.

“Was I thinking out loud again?”

“Yes, and I much prefer it that way. Women are so complicated.”

Clarke scoffed, and a small laugh escaped from Bellamy. Then, as per Bellamy-usual, he turned straight to seriousness within seconds.

“Clarke, the Commander refuses to negociate without our “true leader” present. We _need_ you.”

“I know, Bellamy, you’ve been telling me this for the last two weeks.”

“Well you don’t really seem to be getting the point or making a decision.”

“They broke the god damn alliance in the first place, they should be-“

“We’re not exactly capable of taking down every clan on our own and I think they know that, Princess.”

“It’s such a tiny plot of land and they have all of North America. Whatever happened to sharing?”

“It’s something about hunting grounds, now. They’re just making excuses. We catch, what, two boar a day? Our hunters suck, we’re barely getting by as it is.”

“Aren’t _you_ on the hunting crew?”

Silence washed over them, and Clarke smiled to herself as she heard an audible grumble from the other side.

“Whatever, the point is, they want us gone. The Commander’s messengers are telling us we have two weeks to bring you for negociation or move out. Their scouts would show us where the new border lies and we’d have to be beyond it. Of course, all of our crap is in the station. Food, supplies, tech, housing. We can’t move that in one go and I don't believe they're keen on giving us a few extra trips.”

“So I killed Finn for nothing. They used us to take down Mt. Weather and now we’re back where we started.”

“Clarke, it wasn’t for nothing. They would’ve killed him anyway.”

Clarke scrubbed at her face with the heels of her palms, holding back hot, frustrated tears, and Bellamy began stuttering apologies through the radio. “I just meant you saved him! You know! From- from having to-“

“I killed him, Bellamy. I didn’t save him, I didn’t save anybody.”

“You saved our people, and now we need you to do it again.”

She sighed, nodding where he couldn’t see anyway. “Okay, so, again, why can’t you just give Lexa- I mean, the Commander- the radio?”

“We sent Kane to propose that, but she wouldn’t have it. She wants you there, in the flesh.”

“This is idiotic.”

“What’s idiotic is you refusing to come home because you want to babysit John Murphy.”

Clarke’s voice raised a little higher than she had meant for it to go. “I’m not _babysitting_ Bellamy, he’s my friend.”

“Still can’t wrap my head around that.”

“What, he can’t have friends?”

“I mean, it doesn’t seem easy. I don’t know how one could care about that guy.”

“That’s not what you seemed to believe when we were in the emergency aid depot.”

“What did I say, Princess? _Enlighten me.”_

 _“Oh, man, Clarke, what if we run into Murphy out here? I’d just kiss him!”_ She mocked in a low, scratchy voice.

“First of all, I do not sound like that. Also, I believe the word was ‘kill’. I’m not proud of it but I sure as hell did not say the other thing.”

“Well you were thinking about him.”

“So what?”

After a beat, Clarke began again.

“He looked up to you, Bellamy.”

“Clarke, don’t.” He warned, but it went through one ear and out the other.

“He looked up to you and you kicked that crate, and then I banished him, and he didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve mistreated him so many times.”

“He’s brainwashed you. He murdered Myles, and he told the council he killed Connor, he almost killed  _me_. He shot Raven, he held a knife to  _your_  neck! He killed a little girl, Clarke. He killed Charlotte!"

“She killed _herself_! _She_ killed Wells!”

“He-“ Bellamy started, but she cut him off with a wavering voice.

“Everyone I care about dies, Bellamy. Finn, Wells, Charlotte, my father.” She said, staring ahead.  
  
“Slow down! What the hell are you going on about now, Clarke? He’s not dead! I don't understand. I just- I can't keep up with you.”

Clarke had figured leaving him would kill him inside, but she didn’t know how to say it out loud.

“Tell him to come with you!” Bellamy whisper-shouted, sounding desperate.

“He won’t! He won’t go. I’ve asked before!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t really know, but-"

“Why do you care about him so much? What the hell happened in that bunker? What changed?” Bellamy demanded, sounding more frustrated by the minute. But he was patient. Bellamy was always patient.

Well, usually.

“He was there for me, Bellamy!”

“ _I_ could’ve been there for you!” Bellamy yelled into the radio, and Clarke yelped, dropping it into her lap.

“You-“ He began with a shaky whisper, yet it grew increasingly louder. “-you left _me._ Why would you leave _me_ , but not _him_?”

Her heart pounded against her chest as her tears threatened to betray her. “He’s _alone_ , Bellamy! You have Octavia, Raven, Monty, Miller, you have all of them! He has _nobody_!”

“It’s just not the same.” Bellamy whispered, and Clarke held the radio close, tucking her chin over it protectively as if the eldest Blake were inside of it.

Clarke's voice dropped to a hush. “I’m sorry. He needs me more.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do.”

The radio went dead, the static and the voices and the outside noises stopped.

_“Bellamy!”_

“Just figure it out, Griffin. You come home, we live. You stay, we likely die. I’m sorry you’re in this position, but it’s up to you now. Goodbye.”

She slammed her elbows against the bar behind her and slumped over, holding her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry-“_

“Shut up.”

A familiar arm slipped over her shoulders and the figure breathed into her hair, whisps of blonde tickled her temples.

“I’m so sorry.”

Murphy moved his hand to cover her mouth, cupping her chin and pressing his thumb down on her lips. “Stop.”

The tears began to fall again as she met his blue-green eyes that had seen too much, and he tugged her closer, if possible. She flung an arm over his waist and curled into him.

Suddenly he sighed, closing his eyes. “You need to go.”

“What?”

“You have to go, Clarke. You can’t let all of them die because I’m a selfish asshole.”

“You heard all that?” Clarke's face flushed, and she tilted her chin to look up at him.

“Bellamy needs you.”

She buried her face into his dirty t-shirt which still reeked of alcohol, reminding her to check his feet.

When she leaned up they were already covered by socks bulky with bandages underneath. “Taken care of, mystical healer.”

She almost dared to smile, but her face dropped as his words processed. “He hates me.”

“He loves you, lucky bastard. Now, stop sulking. It's time for you to go home.”

“This is my home.”

“This crappy bunker is not your home. Your home is with your friends and family.”

“No, you. _You’re_ my home.”

He froze, and a small whimper-like sound pierced through her ears. It was almost too quiet to be heard but to Clarke it was like thunder. She latched onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You’re my home.” She repeated into his shoulder, and he pushed her away, gently this time.

“Don’t say that. I don’t deserve that.”

“You deserve everything good, you asshole.”

He pressed at his eyes with his palms, leaving them red and watery when she pulled his hands away and laced her fingers through his, kneeling in front him. “Come with me.”

“Clarke, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, okay?”

“Please, Murphy.”

“You’re all I’ve got. They all hate me there. You go and I have to watch them take you away from me. I have to watch you become _Leader Clarke_ again, the one who wants nothing to do with me, the one who just wants me to stay away from her.”

“That’s not fair, Murphy. Things have changed. _I’ve_ changed.”

"You'll forget all about me and make your stupid battle plans and do important life-saving stuff and I'll be alone again, sweeping floors to contribute to society because I'm not good enough to do anything else."

She turned to him with an intense stare, blue eyes washing over him like a tidal wave. "You are important. I won't leave you alone. I'll get you a good job, and I'll spend time with you. Things will be different this time."

“I’m scared Clarke. I’m so scared.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

Murphy nodded slowly, staring daggers into the wooden floorboards. “Promise?”

“I swear on our father’s graves.”

Murphy shook his head with a sad laugh. “Too far.”

“I know.” She smiled apologetically, crawling over and finding a seat in his lap, tucking her head onto his shoulder.

They sat there in thoughtful silence for a minute, Clarke considering the most efficient way to get around the supposed sea monster, landmines, and desert bandits in one piece. She guessed her friend was considering the most efficient way to get drunk as soon as possible.

“When should we leave?”

“What?”

“When should we go back to camp, Murphy?”

Something clicked in his head, and his face went green.

“Are you going to puke?”

He nodded quickly and shoved her unceremoniously off of his legs, racing to the bathroom.

-

And that’s how they ended up discussing their travel plans over Mr. Nuclear’s porcelain throne, Clarke holding Murphy’s stringy brown hair back in a ponytail all night.

“Nerves?”

“No! Shut up. Something I ate, probably.”

Clarke smiled as he attempted to get down a few crackers next to the toilet, a lovely addition to any meal.

“Whatever you say, brave little soldier.” She pinched his cheek and he smacked her hand away.

After a pause, he looked up to her with wide eyes and a baby face that just did not match the sentence that was to come.

“How many bottles did you say I was allowed to pack?”

**Author's Note:**

> I love this chapter and I hope you loved it too!
> 
> And I love all of the love I get when you guys love what I love writing about characters I love loving one another from a show that we love! I love you!
> 
> Love is in the air and I hope it'll be in the comments as well. Knowing what you guys want and like helps me figure out what kind of angst stuffed fluff to feed you next time. As well as constructive criticism. I screw up royally, I know, so if you catch something weird or painfully incorrect, let me know. Ideas, people! I like your ideas and your beautiful brains.
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Only going on 15 and already creating something- no matter how weird, small and insignificant- that other people enjoy has been an incredible and dare I say, slightly inspiring, experience. I can't remember the last time I was motivated to create. 
> 
> Of course, I have a flair for the dramatic. So just disregard me.
> 
> Thank you, again! More to come!


End file.
